


Fucked Up

by homestuck_winchester



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom, Everyman HYBRID, Slender Man Mythos
Genre: Blood, Death, Dubious Consent, F/M, Gore, M/M, Other, POV Second Person, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-09
Updated: 2013-08-09
Packaged: 2017-12-22 22:51:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/918945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/homestuck_winchester/pseuds/homestuck_winchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite the evidence in front of you and the mere seconds of life you have left, you refuse to believe you’ve given up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fucked Up

**Author's Note:**

> I tried my best to write this in a neutral way so all genders could enjoy. There is blood and sex and tons of fun stuff so be wary. I don't own HABIT (no man can) and I don't have anything to do with EMH. Enjoy!

Despite the evidence in front of you and the mere seconds of life you have left, you refuse to believe you’ve given up.

~

You’ve been living in this house for months. About a week ago you realized you needed to stop being trapped and start living. The doors won’t open and sometimes you miss your family, but there’s plenty to do. You keep to yourself, despite the occasional guest. You try not to let them know you’re there, for fear of giving them hope. There is no hope to give. 

He talks to you sometimes. Mostly scolding laughter and insults, but it’s something. It’s not a knife to your skin. You’ve come to wait anxiously for his words, however scalding they may be. 

One night, you walk past a dark room on your way to the kitchen. Fear washes over you as you hear his sarcasm dripping from hellish lips, overlapped by high pitched whimpering. You know he can see your silhouette against the light from the hallway, but you try and hide in the hallway. 

His words turn to gibberish as your brain tries to wrap itself around what you’re seeing. 

Red.

Everywhere.

Decorations.

It’s like a train wreck. You want to turn away and fall to the ground, but you can’t. He doesn’t look at you. He just cradles the once-living wreckage to his chest and smiles, licking his lips. You turn away then, afraid he will finally acknowledge your presence.

You rub your dry eyes and walk back to your room, hearing his smooth voice playing over and over in your head. 

~

You can hear him cursing through the thin walls. You picture him scooping intestines and brains into black garbage bags, wiping his forehead with bloody hands. The possibility of a rogue red streak across his cheek brings a giggle to your lips. What the fuck is wrong with you? 

Your feet lead you across the hall where your vision is being played out, sans the blood streaked face. His back is to you and he doesn’t notice you. In a strange way, you want him to turn around and see you standing there. He’s a monster. A monster that is currently cleaning up some woman’s brains off of his floor. You weren’t really right in the head to begin with. 

As you walk away from the room, you hear him start laughing and you know he’s not stupid. 

~

He comes to you later. You open your eyes to hide from a nightmare and find him sitting on the floor in front of you, staring into your soul. Both of you just sit there for what seems like hours, staring at each other. You’re frightened, but his ever present smirk is gone. Why is he here?

“You know, I saw you earlier. Just in case you’re so stupid you couldn’t figure that out.”

You just shake and watch his lips move.

“Interesting stuff, huh? Whaddaya think?”

Your eyes widen as you realize he’s waiting for a legitimate answer. 

“I-Interesting,” you say, forcing a smile. 

He cocks his head and that smirk finally shows itself. “Good.”

He pushes himself up and walks to the bed, faster than the time it takes you to blink. A quiet ‘fuck’ escapes from your lips. 

“Pretty much,” he says as he pulls the blanket from over your body. His hand is hot against your shoulder as he rolls you onto your back. This is it, you think as he unsheathes the knife from his side. You don’t fight, you don’t cry, you just freeze up. 

The bed dips as he straddles your waist and sets the tip of the knife against your shirt. Your ears ring and your blood rushes hot through your veins as he looks into your soul, smiling that smile. But he’s not looking at you like you’re food. The look in his eyes can only be described as curiosity. He cocks his head to the side as he slowly cuts your shirt open, revealing your chest. You swear his eyes flick to your heart beating like it’s going to explode, but he returns his questioning gaze to your eyes. 

The knife is set down on your stomach, but your breathing sets it sliding onto the bed. He doesn’t retrieve it.

“You’re so scared, rabbit. Why don’t you cry, scream, something?” He leans down, face pressing against your neck. You surprise yourself by turning your head and baring your neck to him. A low grumble escapes from his chest. “What an odd little rabbit.” You feel his breath against your thumping vein. His tongue flicks onto your skin, followed by a graze of his teeth. You can’t help but shut your eyes and shudder. You may be afraid, but fuck. 

In the seconds that have passed, you’ve realized this is your final night. There’s no reason for you to be here with him and you’ve probably seen too much. You pray it will be quick.

You want more than anything to rake your nails down his clad back, but you don’t want to push it so you struggle to spread your legs. He immediately grinds down, warning you to stop moving. His teeth clamp onto your neck and you feel the skin break. Your hips buck up against his weight and he laughs into your neck. 

You feel his hand brush over your nipple. You tense as you realize the hand is traveling toward the knife. Its cold edge glides over your exposed ribs as his mouth moves down to follow the blade’s trail. You’re shivering violently. You’re sure it’s from the mix of fear and anticipation running through you. You start to feel a burning on your side. The knife cut through your skin so quickly you hadn’t felt it at first. The sight of the blood sends a new rush of fear through you and you place your arms on his shoulders.

He looks at you through his eyelashes, going completely still. In what seems like no time at all, he sticks the knife through the blanket and mattress and you’re on your stomach, his hands wrapped around your wrists beside you. 

“Stay,” he growls above you. His movements are rougher now. His teeth open skin on your back and you bite back tears, but it’s too much. There’s so much pain. The knife at your side is gone, carving over your skin, into your body. The pillow beneath you is soaking with tears and blood, but you can’t make it stop. You just want it to stop. 

The cool air along your backside startles you and makes you try and jerk away. Your free hand won’t respond to your brain’s pleas to move and he’s got the other one pinned behind you. The feeling of him entering you from behind is Heaven-sent compared to the searing pain everywhere else. He moves in and out of you at a speed you know is tearing you apart, but you can’t do anything but grimace and pray he leaves you alone after he gets off. 

When he groans and pulls away from you, you scream from the sudden absence of him inside you. You’re falling apart and he was holding you together. In a blast of pain, he rolls your body onto the floor. 

After that, you don’t remember much. Bright, hot lightning bolts of pain in your stomach, legs, and arms. You can see him smiling and singing as he continues to carve you open, but you don’t feel anything anymore. 

As your vision dims, you wonder what’s so wrong about being fucked up?

But you were never really right to begin with, were you?


End file.
